


To War with Women

by xahra99



Series: Crusade [22]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Feminist Themes, Gen, Historical Inaccuracy, cosy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:08:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24043363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xahra99/pseuds/xahra99
Summary: Altair decides to allow women to join the Assassins. His plan has unexpected consequences.Written for the prompt: a cosy AC1 story. Assassin’s Creed,  a game about murdering people, is not a fandom that lends itself to stories where nothing bad happens. I took that as a challenge.
Series: Crusade [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/6874
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	To War with Women

“You are fool enough, it seems, to dare to war with women,

When for your faithful ally you might win me easily.”

Aristophanes, _Lysistrata_

_Masyaf._

Altaïr’s studies of the Apple had taught him patience, so he waited for two seasons to make the changes he had planned. He chose his moment carefully. It was the end of winter, when snow blocked the passes and ice made the rocks too slippery too climb. Trapped inside, the men quarrelled like caged eagles, but boredom gave them the time and inclination to debate.

The delay bought Altaïr time to re-establish order. But Altaïr had not learned patience easily, and once he was done waiting he called all the Masyaf leaders to a meeting in Al Mualim’s library.

He looked around at them. Malik sat at his right hand. Next came Moctar, the old rafiq of Acre, and Atash, the new rafiq of Damascus. Dai Husain, skinny terror of novices. Hasan, master of the stables, and Umar, chief cook. Abbas and Rauf. Iyas, head surgeon, and Altaïr’s old teacher Yusuf.

Altaïr asked them their concerns and dealt with what he could before he raised the subject of the new arrivals. The men relaxed as they anticipated the purpose of the meeting.

Men and women who had lost their faith in God had always made their way to the Assassins. Perhaps one or two each season came to Masyaf. But Assassin ways were strange to those raised with religion, and few new arrivals stayed. Now war had come, and everything had changed. Since Altaïr had defeated Al Mualim folk flocked to Masyaf in all seasons.

“I’d thought that winter would have stopped them.” said old Moctar.

“It’s making it more difficult for them to reach us,” corrected Malik. “But they’re starving and half-frozen once they do.”

Iyas nodded. “I’ve seen plenty of frostbite,” said the surgeon. “Lung infections. A few broken limbs. And those were the ones who managed to make the journey.”

“These new arrivals could be a good source of recruits,” said Rauf optimistically. “For years we’ve had to find boys where we can.”

“The refugees are too old to fight as we do,” said Moctar. Moctar was the oldest there, but all understood his meaning. Assassin training started young. Most Assassins were disabled or dead before forty.

“They’re useless mouths,” growled Abbas.

Malik scowled at Abbas. “We have a duty to protect them.”

“Everyone has a purpose, Abbas,” Altaïr said mildly. “Even you.”

“We do need more men,” said Yusuf.

“No,” Altaïr corrected. “We need more people.”

Atash frowned. “What’s the difference?”

“Women,” Rauf corrected. “He’s saying we need men and women both.”

Malik’s eyes narrowed, anticipating Altaïr’s next move. Altaïr only nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Thank you, Rauf. I think we should recruit more women.”

“Why?” Yusuf asked.

Altaïr sighed. “Let me explain. Who tends your wounds?”

“Surgeons,” said Iyas.

“Who cooks your food?”

“Veterans,” said Umar.

“Who cleans the halls?”

“Novices,” growled dai Husain.

“Who carries water? Weaves? Keeps you company at night?”

Husain glared at Altaïr. “That is none of your business.”

“It is my business,” Altaïr corrected. “The Old Man sought control over all aspects of our lives. He tried to mould us in his ways. Forbid us family ties.”

Husain reddened. “It’s still-“

“Let me finish, Husain. It’s true that Al Mualim taught me well. Too well, perhaps. But the Old Man betrayed us. Used us for his own ends. We should not follow him in every way.”

Iyas frowned. “What are you saying?”

“Al Mualim taught us to shun family connections,” Altaïr said carefully. “But that should change.”

“The Old Man was chaste himself,” said Yusuf. 

Moctar snorted. “Do you really think so? Remember his garden? All those young women?”

“Returning to my point,” Altaïr said, interrupting what promised to become an interesting argument between the two old men. Both Moctar and Yusuf glared at him. “I think we should be allowed to love. Take families, if you wish.”

“Won’t attachments make us weaker?” Abbas asked. “Teach us to value something else above the Order?”

Altaïr shook his head. “I think it will make us stronger. We fight for the Creed. Won’t we fight better if we protect those we love as well? Forming bonds is human nature. Rauf, I know you’ve formed a partnership with Saduf. Atash, I know Maysun keeps your house in Damascus.” Both Assassins flushed as he continued. “You’re not alone. Many men in this room have maintained households for years. I challenge any one of you to say that makes a weaker fighter.”

“Besides,” said Malik, “new Assassins have to come from somewhere.”

Abbas snorted. “We know what you think, Al-Sayf.”

Malik bared his teeth in something which was not quite a smile. “I rarely hide it.”

“So we should form alliances with women?” asked Yusuf.

“Yes,” said Altaïr. “If you prefer. I will set no rules. Those who do not prefer the company of women are free to continue as they always have.”

“So you’re not changing the Creed?” Hasan asked.

“No.” Altaïr shook his head. “But we should be allowed to love our families. And our children. In this way we will grow stronger as we walk into the future.”

“This way we will _have_ a future,” Malik said. “We can’t rely on converts forever.”

Altaïr nodded. “This is what I propose. And there is one last thing-“

“I thought there might be,” Abbas muttered.

“I think we should let women join the Order.” Altaïr said, watching their faces carefully. He counted every man here an ally, and he wanted to gauge their reactions before announcing his plan to the rest of the Assassins.

They reacted much as he predicted. Abbas frowned. Rauf looked interested. Atash excited. Husain sceptical. Moctar’s expression, beneath his beard, was inscrutable. Hasan and Umar exchanged glances. Yusuf shook his head. Iyas stroked his beard. Malik’s expression did not change, but then Malik already knew Altaïr’s plans.

“Surely that’s a step too far?” Yusuf said finally.

“It’s not permitted,” Abbas snapped.

“We are Assassins, Abbas. Everything is permitted. Women already work for the Order. We could not do without them. They gather herbs, clean laundry, weave our robes. We would look foolish riding into battle naked.” Altaïr paused to nod at Atash, who’d once been surprised by Templars in a bathhouse and fought free without his clothes. “Except for Atash, who we all know prefers to fight that way.” The comment got a laugh, as he’d known it would. “Why shouldn’t women fight as well?”

“They aren’t as strong,” said Rauf.

“They don’t want to,” said Husain.

“Some fight too much already,” said Iyas ruefully.

Umar shook his head. “Women are not meant for fighting.”

“Battle is not our only purpose,” said Altaïr. “We have many tools at our disposal. All serve in different ways. We can eavesdrop or pickpocket. If we must, we can spy, sneak or steal. We are not all fighters. You’ve all seen how men ignore a beggar. They will ignore a woman too.”

He looked around to gauge their response. Atash nodded. Rauf looked thoughtful.

“Mountain women slaughter sheep beside the men,” Malik added. “It needs little strength to slide a blade in someone’s heart once you know how.”

“I would not want Saduf to fight,” said Rauf.

Husain frowned. “Nor I Jaina.”

“I cannot guarantee that they will never have to,” said Altaïr. “We have had armies at Masyaf’s gates twice within my memory,”

Moctar nodded. “Ten times in mine. I’ve seen villagers slaughtered despite our best efforts.”

“I, too,” said Umar.

“We should strengthen the walls,” said Yusuf.

“We should do that, I agree,” said Altaïr. “But we all know that walls cannot keep out every foe.”

“We can protect the villagers,” said Hasan, “The women and the children, and all those who cannot fight.”

Altaïr nodded. “We will. But if we cannot they will need to save themselves. Isn’t it better that we give them the skills? Teach those that want to?”

“Some won’t,” Husain said. 

“Some will,” said Iyas, grimacing.

“Those who can’t or do not wish to will serve in other ways,” said Altaïr. “Just like they always have.”

The silence that followed as each man considered the proposal was broken only by the scream of an eagle.

“I agree that we should be free to love,” said Hasan, eventually. “But women Assassins? That’s a big change.”

Atash nodded. “We should think on this.”

“I agree,” said Umar.

“And I,” said Moctar. “We will consider what you have said.”

“See that you do,” said Altaïr. It was all he could ask. “You have one day. Use the time to think on what I have told you.”

“I already know what I think,” Abbas grumbled.

Malik raised his eyebrows. “You think?”

“Malik, enough,” said Altaïr. “We are not here to argue. Discuss my proposal amongst yourselves. Tell no one else, that’s all.” He looked challengingly around the circle, holding their eyes one by one until they had all nodded. Old Yusuf held his gaze the longest, but Altaïr had practised upon eagles, and in the end even his old teacher gave in.

“Brothers, we will speak of this tomorrow,” said Altaïr, and dismissed them.

The Assassins left with varying degrees of haste, wishing Altaïr safety and peace regardless of their opinion. Only Malik lingered.

Altaïr stretched and gazed out of the great arched window. “That went well,” he said.

“Perhaps,” Malik said. “But there is one question you have not asked.”

“What is that?” Altaïr turned, abandoning the mountains with a sigh, and cracked his neck. “I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“What do the women think of this?”

Altaïr had to admit it was a good question. Malik’s questions often were. “I don’t know.”

“Have you asked them?”

“No,” Altaïr paused. “Do you think I should?”

Malik looked at him for a long moment. “What do you think?”

“You’re right,” Altaïr conceded. There was no point in allowing the village women to join the Assassins if that was not what they truly wished. 

“Of course.”

“I think that I should send a message before I go,” Altaïr said slowly. “They won’t welcome the Assassin Grand Master without warning.”

Malik nodded. “You’re right.”

“That’s unusual. Let me fetch pen and paper.” Altaïr ran his hand over the desk. “I must record it.”

Malik rolled his eyes. “There must be a group of leaders in the village. And it’s better if you meet with women in a group. Less cause for rumour.”

It took Altaïr less time than he expected to gather a group of women who spoke for the others. There were fewer than he’d thought, just five women, four of them grouped behind an elderly woman with red wool woven into her grey hair who looked old enough to be Altaïr’s grandmother. Hala, who knew old Moctar well.

She introduced the other women. Saduf, Rauf’s partner, a tall woman with an open, pleasant gaze who met Altaïr’s eyes frankly. Malak, one of Iyas’s bed mates, had a mane of thick dark hair covering her shoulders like a shawl. Hind, smiled flirtatiously at Altaïr behind her sleeve. Shyest of them all was Sumaya, a petite, heavily pregnant girl who could not bring herself to look at him directly.

Once tea was poured and the introductions were done Hala clasped her hands in her lap and scowled up at Altaïr. Seated, she barely reached his shoulder, but her gaze was as relentless as stone. “They say you want to make us all Assassins,” she said.

Altaïr did not ask who had told her. “That’s not quite what I had planned.”

Hala raised pale eyebrows. “That’s not what I heard.”

“Then you heard wrong,” said Altaïr politely, ignoring the gasps from Sumaya and Hind. Evidently one did not correct Hala to her face. He forged on. “We shouldn’t abandon the Creed. But our tactics must change. We must use any means at our disposal.”

Hala nodded. “So you’re desperate.”

“No,” Altaïr corrected. “We’re ignoring valuable resources.”

She snorted. “You could have put that better.”

“I could have put it worse. I want Assassins to be free to love. Without consequences.”

“Everything has consequences,” Hala jabbed a gnarled finger at the pregnant girl. “Look at Sumaya here. One of your boys took what he wanted, then left her. When she goes up to the castle he’s always off training.”

“Give me his name,” promised Altaïr. “He will be punished.”

“Oh, he has been,” said Hala with a smile that left Altaïr wondering what unpleasant fate she had reserved for the nameless novice. “But that won’t thatch Sumaya’s roof.”

“I did not mean we should have no responsibility,” Altaïr corrected. “I merely mean that we should form families. Take responsibility for our children, together. As you and Moctar have. Make formal unions if you wish.”

“I do not want to wed.” Hala folded her arms. “My arrangement with Moctar works very well. I see no need to change.”

“Then you don’t have to,” said Altaïr.

“I like the sound of that,” Sumaya said cautiously.

“I, too,” Malak said. “The city women call us whores simply because we don’t live like they do. A wife could demand more respect.”

Hala snorted. “Wife is just a word.” 

“Words are important,” retorted Malak. She jabbed her sharp chin at Altaïr. “Ask the Assassin.”

“The Grand Master, girl.”

Altaïr held up his hand to forestall Hala as Malak’s fierce scowl challenged him. “City folk are ignorant. Everybody is worthy of respect. I will not make the same mistake. Neither will any who call themselves Assassins.”

Malak tossed her hair. A cloak of braids settled on her shoulders. “We will see,” she said.

“Times change,” Altaïr said solemnly, ignoring Hind’s flirtatious gaze. “We must change with them. And there is one more change I’d like to make.”

Hala’s mouth tightened. “What is it?

“I would let women join the Order,” said Altaïr.

Hala’s eyebrows swept towards the sky. Saduf hid her surprise better, and Altaïr wondered where she had learnt to veil her feelings. Not from Rauf, he was sure. Hind’s dark eyes widened. Malak smiled sharply, and Sumaya sniffed and wiped her nose upon her sleeve. They took Altaïr’s news much better than the men.

Sumaya glanced down at her pregnant belly. “We’ve never had to fight.”

Hala shook her head. “Not true, girl. You’ve not been here for long.”

“Masyaf was under Templar siege two years ago,” Saduf said slowly.

Hala nodded. “And Saladin brought his troops when you were only waist high.” She held up a hand to suggest a small child. Though Altaïr chose to believe Hala was responding to Saduf, he had a nasty feeling she meant him. 

“Masyaf provides protection,” he said. “but the castle is a target. We’ll fight, but the time may come when we need help.”

“You’d teach our daughters?” Hala asked him.

“Those that want to.”

“You’d train us?” Malak asked. Masyaf rumour had it that Iyas had a taste for adventure when he wasn’t sewing wounds. Malak’s fierce grin confirmed every story.

“You’re all too old for true Assassin training,” Altaïr said. “But we could teach you how to fight.”

“I’d like that,” Hala rolled up her sleeves and glanced around at the other women. “Why are you holding back, Sumaya? Strong women birth strong children. Fancy that, Saduf? Give that man of yours a run for your money?”

Saduf nodded. “What do the men think of this?”

It was a good question. “They are thinking, at least.”

Hala snorted. The snort turned into a full-blow cackle, and she threw back her head, exposing stained teeth. “You have grown wise.”

“Not as wise as you.”

“And charming. It was not always so. I remember when you were just a skinny child shooting arrows at our sheep.” She grinned. “This will set the hounds among the herd for sure.”

“So you’ll consider it?”

Hala shrugged. Joints clicked. It was like watching an old camel lay down. “I am merely a voice. But we will talk. Do you girls have any questions?”

Malak and Saduf, both Altaïr’s age, bristled at being called girls. Malak tucked her hair behind one ear. “You won’t force our daughters to become Assassins?”

“Not at all. We don’t force boys. It will be their choice-or yours, as they will be too young to understand.”

Saduf frowned. “When would they start training?”

“I began at five. But that was unusual. Depending on the child, seven to twelve. Unless they show great promise.”

“What if a man abandons us with children?” asked Sumaya timidly.

“If the child is his, then he must support you, and you’ll be free to find another man. That’s how it’s always been.”

Hala sucked her teeth. “What if he denies it?”

“Then we’ll observe the judgement of your elders and proceed according to the law.”

“What about baths?” Saduf asked. “And latrines?”

“The Order is growing,” Altaïr said. “We will need a new bath house soon enough. It would be simple enough to build one with separate quarters.”

As the women gained more confidence and saw that Altaïr would answer them just as he would a man, their questions flowed fast as the river. What weapons would they use? How and when would they train? What other tasks might they have? Altaïr answered them all. Hala waited patiently, occasionally steering the conversation back towards a direct course. The discussion ended abruptly when Hind looked up at Altaïr through her eyelashes and murmured “Do you train a lot?”

He nodded. “We’re Assassins. Training is what we do.”

When Altaïr shrugged, Hind’s eyes followed the movement of his shoulders. “Oh,” she murmured huskily, laying a slender hand on his upper arm. “It’s just-I thought-you’ve got so many muscles.”

Altaïr stood more hastily then he’d intended. “I’ll leave you to discuss this,” he announced, scrambling to his feet in a manner unbefitting a Master Assassin.

The women grinned. Even Saduf smiled. Hala’s cough nearly hid her chuckles. “Tomorrow, then,” she said between wheezes.

“Tomorrow,” Altaïr confirmed. He paused, “But perhaps-the morning?”

They set a time. Altaïr left as quickly as he could, trying to look as if he wasn’t running away. From Hala’s grin, he knew he’d failed.

The next morning came and went, and bright sun streamed through the hall’s arched window. The Assassins filed in one by one. Malik arrived before Altaïr himself and spent the time giving Altaïr baleful looks. Iyas came last, wiping blood from his hands and muttering something about last-minute surgery. Altaïr waited until Iyas had settled before he stood behind Al Mualim’s desk and said “Welcome, brothers.”

They all nodded. Silhouetted against the window, Altaïr knew he cut an intimidating figure. The arched ceiling and the heavy desk, raised in the Frankish style before the leaded window, drew the eye towards him and made him appear much larger than real life. Altaïr often wondered whether the Old Man had designed his study that way. Whatever men might say against Al Mualim, the old trickster had known the value of theatrics.

“I’ve told you of my plans,” he said, keeping his voice intentionally quiet so they all strained to hear it. “You’ve had time to talk it over. I know you will have questions.”

Several of the Assassins nodded. Rauf held up one hand. Altaïr gestured to Rauf. “You first.”

Rauf frowned and shifted in his seat. “Who are the other chairs for?”

Al Mualim had kept several ornate chairs carved in the Frankish style to match his tall Frankish desk. Altaïr had arranged them so the Assassins sat while he remained standing. Nine chairs on one side faced nine on the other. “I’ve invited some others who have an interest in this debate,” he said, drawing closer to the men as he moved in front of the desk. “Welcome, sisters. If you would come in?”

The women came up the stairs. Hala led them, crimson tipped braids swinging, a distaff wrapped around her wrist. Altaïr nodded to her with the respect her age demanded. “The lady Hala,” he said. “I believe you know Moctar?”

Hala took the seat next to Moctar and smiled. Moctar took her right hand and ran his thumb over her gnarled knuckles.

Malak followed, smiling fiercely, mouth tight with something that Altaïr thought might be fear. With one hand she clasped the palm of a much shorter woman. With the other she held the hand of a tawny girl with feline eyes who carried a bundle of sweet-smelling herbs beneath her arm. Like Iyas, their clothes were stained with blood. 

“The ladies Malak, Khaizuran and Naila.” Altaïr introduced them. “You all three know Iyas.”

Malak bared her teeth and nodded. Her hands tightened on the wrists of the other women. They prowled across the carpet and took chairs facing Iyas, where they sat together, thighs touching.

Sumaya came next, cradling her belly, and Hind flashed Altaïr a broad smile. Saduf walked in like she was heading to the market. Maysun, Atash’s housekeeper, held a stylus, and gold tiraz bands encircled the wrists of her robes. Husain’s consort Jaida came last, carrying a flute in one hand. She must have been twenty years younger than skinny dai Husain, curves barely hidden beneath a shapeless robe. Altaïr wondered if dai Husain had been hiding hidden talents, and Atash wondered loudly if he was hiding something else. Dai Husain scowled, but his eyes softened when he looked over at Jaida, and she smiled shyly back beneath her scarf.

Abbas’s eyes darted from face to face. “This isn’t fair,” he said.

“It is,” Umar corrected. “They have as much say as we do in the matter.”

Hasan nodded. “Perhaps more.”

Altaïr coughed. “Brothers and sisters,” he began, trying hard to sound sombre but not pompous. “I have summoned you together to discuss the future of the Order. If we are to succeed, if we are to rebuild, then we must be careful not to repeat the mistakes of those who came before. We must be vigilant, ever mindful of the past, but we must walk together into the future. You’ve all heard what I have to say. Though I ask you to change, I do not ask you to abandon the Creed. Our duty is to the people. To encourage tolerance and equality. To shape the course of history in secret, and fight for what is just. But I say that we will fight better if we fight for others’ gain. It’s never been our way to know our families. This should change. Not only that, but that women should be free to join the Order. But I am not Al Mualim. I would hear what you have to say before I make any decree.” He nodded to Hala. “Begin.”

Hala drew crimson wool from the distaff on her wrist. She produced a cruciform spindle from her sleeve and spun it with a swift flick of her fingers. “ A pretty speech,” she said as the skein stretched out like blood. “And wise. We’ve served your men for many years.”

Hind stretched. “Given pleasure,” she said.

“Polished your weapons,” Saduf said, with a level glare that made Rauf blush.

Maysun tucked her stylus behind her ear. “Kept your accounts.”

“Healed your wounds,” said Khaizuran, tucking her hands into blood-spattered sleeves.

Naila crumbled a handful of herbs. “Made medicine.”

Sumaya balanced a hand upon her belly. “We’ve given you children,” she said.

“Listened,” said Jaina quietly.

Malak shook back her hair. “Accepted insults without shame.”

“We’ve made your robes,” Hala tensed her skinny arms and slapped her bicep without missing a turn of her spindle. “And we’ve fought when we had to. Now you ask for our assistance.” She paused and looked around with bird-bright eyes. It was clear from the surprise on the faces of many of the men that they had not thought of it that way. “Why should we refuse? We agree to your proposal.”

“You all agree?” asked Altaïr.

Hala nodded “Yes.”

Moctar nodded too. “And I agree as well.”

“And I,” said Rauf.

“Us too,” said Hasan, and Umar nodded.

“You know that I am for it,” Malik said.

Abbas growled. “I suppose so.”

Yusuf shook his head. “I am too old for change. I say no.”

“And I yes,” said Atash.

“Women should be permitted,” Husain said. “But they should not have to fight.”

“Nobody will be compelled,” Altaïr promised. “You, Iyas?”

The surgeon shook his head. “It’s wiser to heal wounds than cause them. I cannot condone women on the field of war.”

Naila’s narrowed eyes promised retribution. Malak’s scowl could have cut bone. Khaizuran shook her head in disappointment. Iyas paused. “Perhaps in time?” he said, and sighed. “It seems I am outnumbered.”

“You should be used to that,” Rauf muttered. Iyas shot him a glare that promised slow and painful healing the next time Rauf was injured.

Altaïr frowned at them both. “Then most agree,” he said. “It’s settled.”

Hala cleared her throat with a hacking cough. “One more thing,” she said.

Altaïr inclined his head.

“It’s good to love and have families. To see our children grow. So we have spoken, and so we agree.” Her gaze raked the circle. “Most of us here have attachments in one way or another. But you, Grand Master, have no partner. We think that you should take a wife.”

Altaïr knew had been outflanked by a master. He withdrew behind his desk, hoping Hala did not see his movement for the retreat that it was.

“Good idea,” said Yusuf. “A leader should have sons to follow him.”

“And daughters,” Maysun said firmly.

“You should put down roots,” said dai Husain, glancing at Jaida. “It’s time.”

“There will be time,” Altaïr said firmly. “A woman’s not coin to be traded. She must be courted and won.”

Hind leant forwards and blinked up at him through her eyelashes with a smile that had all the subtlety of a throwing knife. Malik leant back in his chair with a blank expression that meant he was trying not to laugh. Altaïr resolutely refused to let either of them vex him.

“Once I thought I had found such a one,” he continued, thinking of Adha. “But she died.”

Several of the women sighed.

“Alas, I have not yet found another. Besides,” he continued briskly, “I have no time. Already there are rumours of a movement on Cyprus. I must voyage there.” 

“When will you travel?” Moctar asked.

“In spring,” Altaïr said.

The old Assassin shaded his eyes from the sunlight streaming through the window. “It’s nearly spring now. Who will lead the Order?”

“Malik will act as Master in my place while I am gone,” said Altaïr. He risked a glance at Malik, who wielded sarcasm like a blade, but always watched Altaïr’s back. Malik would not question any of Altaïr’s decisions in public. Privately, though-that was another matter. Altaïr did not look forwards to their conference once he was done.

“Before you go, will you begin to make these changes?” Hala asked as she spun her distaff. 

“No change happens quickly,” Altaïr warned her. “But yes. Malik will continue my work while I am in Cyprus.”

Hala’s gaze flicked, snake-fast, to Malik. “Do you agree to this?”

Malik’s jaw tensed. “Yes.”

Hala stopped her spindle with one swift movement and wrapped raw red-dyed wool around her arm. “Then it’s decided.”

“Altaïr nodded. “I will set up a meeting with the men.”

“And the women.”

“The whole village,” he promised.

Hala nodded, and Altaïr returned her gesture. “Safety and peace,” he said. “I’ll find you all later and speak to all of you in turn. There is much to discuss.”

They all left slowly. Moctar went with Hala. Husain escorted Jaida. Maysun and Atash went arm in arm, and Hasan took Umar’s hand. Hind went reluctantly. Yusuf clearly couldn’t wait to leave. Abbas helped Sumaya down the staircase. Malak, Iyas, Khaizuran and Naila discussed patients as they walked down the stairs, all their differences seemingly forgotten.

Malik pushed back his chair and walked to the balcony, glancing over the railing as he watched the others leave. He didn’t start shouting until he was sure everyone had left the hall. Altaïr appreciated this evidence of loyalty. He didn’t appreciate the punch Malik aimed at his chin. The blow was a hair too slow. Altaïr dodged, which did nothing to improve Malik’s temper. As Malik unleashed a volley of curses that cast doubt on Altaïr’s wits, his skill, and his lineage, Altaïr wondered if he should just have let Malik hit him. It would have been less painful. 

He waited until Malik had cursed the fourth generation of his ancestors before he said “I’m sorry. I should have warned you.”

“Yes,” Malik snapped. “You should.”

Altaïr sat back behind the desk and rubbed his temples. He had the start of a headache, and an idea he deserved it. 

“Just like you, Altaïr.” Malik dragged a chair across the floor, set it before Altaïr’s desk and sat down heavily, a move which put them both on the same level. “You start something, then need my help to finish it.”

“Bringing women into the Order is a good idea,” protested Altaïr.

“I know.” Malik sighed. “I wouldn’t have agreed if it wasn’t.”

“I knew you would.”

“That is no reason not to ask,” Exasperation crept back into Malik’s tone. “I thought the Templars were retreating?”

“They weave their webs in secret.”

Malik pinched the crease between his eyebrows. “That’ll make things more complicated.”

“Yes,” Altaïr agreed. “That is why I must move now. The remnants of the Order are in Acre. I will go there to gather news. If my suspicions are correct, I’ll take ship for Cyprus and deal with them there.”

“Send somebody else.”

Altaïr shook his head. “I dare not. If we would find more Eden fragments, the Order must function without me.”

“The Order needs many things. I am not sure we need more Eden fragments.”

“The relics must be understood,”

“I don’t agree. I think we’re better not knowing.”

Altaïr gave a fractional nod. “At least we both agree that we need Masyaf’s women firmly on our side.”

Malik exhaled. “You know I do. You would leave in spring? That’s not much time.”

“A month at least.” Altaïr twitched back his cowl and glanced behind him at the snow-capped peaks.

“The snows are melting _now_ , Altaïr. Another week or so-”

“We have some time to plan.”

Malik snorted. “You have time to plan. This is not my doing.”

“I will speak with the others.”

“You had better. I am not dealing with this while you chase after Templars. Though it may be a good idea for you to leave swiftly, or old Hala will have you married off for sure.”

Altaïr remembered Hind. “It’s not Hala I’m worried about.”

Malik shrugged. “Hind’s pretty enough. You’re not tempted?”

“Not after Adha.” Altaïr pushed back his cowl. 

“I suppose not. You won’t have time to think of women when you’re hunting Templars through the streets of-” Malik paused. “Where did you say you were going?”

“Cyprus,” said Altaïr.

Malik shrugged again. “Enjoy peace while you have it. You have ensured that I will have none.”

Altaïr nodded. “Thank you, brother.”

“You don’t deserve it.” Malik said frankly.

“I don’t,” Altaïr agreed. “But I am grateful nonetheless.”

Malik frowned. “You need to think this through. If you’re really going to recruit girls, they will need separate dormitories. We can adapt the old lofts in the east tower. But the training grounds will need to be extended. We can’t use any more of the village.”

“With all these new arrivals, things are getting quite crowded. We should build more houses.”

“Which means the walls will need to be extended,” Malik mixed water and ink together, and took a pen from Altaïr’s desk. “We’ll need more terraces for grain.”

“We could trade for more sheep.” Altaïr passed Malik a sheet of fresh paper. “And if we’re going to extend the walls, they should be strengthened.”

Malik sketched a map. “That means quarrying stone.”

“And felling trees. And planting saplings to restore the fertile land.”

“That will be a lot of work. We’ll need everyone we can get.”

Altaïr nodded. “As I said. It makes no sense to disregard half our population.” He pointed out the sketch Malik had made of Masyaf’s curtain wall. “The north wall doesn’t curve like that. You’ve drawn it wrong.”

Malik cursed and corrected the error. “Somehow I don’t think a life of digging ditches and hard work was what Hala had in mind when she offered to find you a wife.”

“I don’t want a wife. I want a woman who will fight by my side.”

“Someone who will tolerate your winning personality,” Malik agreed. “Well, you won’t find that in Cyprus. Nothing but Templars there.”

“Just Templars,” Altaïr agreed. His gaze strayed from the papers on his desk, and back to the mountains. He was already thinking of his mission.


End file.
